The Arthur Before Alfred
by Hikari Bara
Summary: Arthur has changed from the man he was before he met his little brother...for better or for worse. OC, but still Arthur x Alfred. Human names used. DISCONTINUED [at the moment]
1. Chapter 1

1

To love someone is to put all of your trust into that person.

"Master Alfred, you know that Master Kirkland does not want you to do that."

The bright-eyed boy spun around in his tidy, clean, unmistakably English clothes to face the maid who was talking to him. It was Abigail, the woman who had helped bring him up in the absence of his older brother.

"But Brother isn't here, Miss Abigail! Come play with me!" Alfred urged anyway, dismissing her serious tone. If Alfred _really _wanted someone to play with him, by God, he would get what he wanted. And fast.

"Master Alfred, it is not a good idea, Master Kirkland will be returning any day now," Abigail insisted, reaching for Alfred's toys. They were little boats crafted out of sticks and leaves—rather complex, for his thirteen-year-old body. A boy who was forced to be a shut-in by his older brother's order.

_"I don't want my little America getting close to anyone else. He may only depend on me!" _Abigail winced at the recollection of her Master's words. She was the only maid he allowed to care for his little brother, and only because she had been working for the Master for over thirty years.

Alfred slapped the maid's hand away. "Why wouldn't Brother want me to play with toys? All of the other kids play with them!" he whined.

Abigail resisted the urge to roll her eyes before she launched herself into the all-too-familiar routine. "Master Alfred, those children aren't like you. One day, they will grow old and die, and they only live because of you. You won't die, if you stay close to Master Kirkland and act like a good colony. Okay?"

But Alfred didn't let go of the toys. Instead, he scrunched up his adorable round face, then scurried away from the old maid, leaving her with the rest of the twigs that were scattered on the hallway floor.

_Oh dear, why is Master Kirkland so obsessed with that boy? _Abigail thought with a sigh as she began to pick up the carefully crafted sticks. _He's nothing but trouble._

Suddenly, the door slammed open. "Alfred! Guess what Big Brother got for you from my victory over those stupid French and Indians!" A slight pause. Then, the expected question. "Abigail, where's my Alfred?"

(A/N Oh, and might I reemphasize that I wrote "my victory" when Iggy was talking? Yep, I'm letting Kirkland-sama give himself allllll the credit for the French and Indian War, because in this story, Iggy's gonna get a taste of arrogance. And he's gonna like it.)

"Master Kirkland, welcome home. Master Alfred is in his room, with a few toys he made from twigs found around the house. Do not worry, though, I have collected most of them," Abigail replied. But without fail, she felt an ominous presence looming behind her. She felt the all-too-familiar strike on her neck slam her down onto the ground, crushing the boats in the process.

"You imbecile, have I not _told _you to keep him from doing those kinds of things? My God, woman," Arthur seethed, giving the poor maid a final kick in the side. Then, he stalked off to find his brother.

Abigail slowly pulled herself into a crouching position. She rocked herself back and forth, trying to forget about how much her Master had changed after he met that little boy. Alfred. Yes, Alfred was what had changed her beloved Master, the reason she had continued serving under him even after her seven years were through. Because she had fallen in love with that selfless, breathtaking Arthur that stole the gazes of even devoted married women. She had fallen in love with the Arthur before Alfred.

_And what would you do…keke…to get that Arthur back?_

"Alfie! Look now, see what I have got for you!" Arthur exclaimed, bursting into Alfred's room without so much as a knock. He froze when he realized what his sweet little angel was doing.

Alfred was swooping a pile of entwined twigs through the air, making _swoosh_ing noises and laughing happily. Then, finally, after a few seconds, he noticed his older brother.

"Ah, Brother! You're home! Welcome back!" he laughed, still smiling his—even then—trademark megawatt smile.

Arthur was still frozen, hand on finely crafted doorknob, feet still in the doorway, stuck. His Alfred was having fun without him, imagining a life without him, laughing at the fact that Arthur wasn't there to enjoy the moment with him.

_How dare that bitch let him get away with this?!_

Arthur finally let go of the knob when Alfred's smile faltered. "B-Brother…?" he asked, his voice innocent.

"Alfie…what do you have there?" Arthur asked, his tone inconspicuous. But he made sure to keep his head down to keep Alfred from seeing the madness-induced rage flickering across his face.

Alfred's smile returned twice as brilliant. "Oh, these? I made them from twigs, so we could play together!" he replied, holding him up as if to give Arthur a better view.

But Arthur wasn't really listening to Alfred. He slowly stepped inside his little brother's dimly lit room and quietly shut the door behind him. He had been planning this for a long, long time, but had wanted Alfred's body to mature before then. But this…this couldn't go on. This maddening feeling of holding back. It had happened before to other countries—his sweet little brother could rebel.

And what would Arthur be left with? A feeling of regret? No, he'd fall completely to madness by then.

This time, when Alfred's smile faltered, it didn't return. "Brother…are you okay?"

Arthur slowly approached the boy, so conveniently perched on the bed with his idiotic sticks. "Yes, Alfie, I'm fine."

"Wh-what did you want…to show me?" Alfred tried, finally sensing the threatening mood.

Finally, Arthur arrived at the edge of the bed. He sat down, and pulled his brother tightly to his chest.

"A-Arthur…?"

At the sound of his name, plus his sudden feeling of letting go and Alfred's closeness, he could have moaned. But he held back…Alfred was too wary of his Brother right now to allow that freedom. Arthur would have to calm his little Alfie down.

"I won, you know that, Alfie? I won that French and Indian war for you! Now I can move you west of the Appalachians, and I can help you expand further! Won't that be fun?"

Arthur grinned as he felt Alfred relax in his arms at his words. "Yeah!"

_Got you._

Well, who doesn't love a little cliffhanger? Don't worry, hopefully (kekeke) I won't be one of _those _authors who don't get back to their cliffy for months. ^^


	2. Chapter 2

2

What we believe in can easily be shattered.

* * *

Arthur slowly ran his hands down Alfred's shirt. It was a nice, rose-colored vest, with midnight buttons. Arthur had ordered the maids to make this particular vest himself. All for little Alfie. And now, he was slowly undoing each button. So, so inconspicuously that naïve little Alfred had no idea what was happening…until Arthur tugged the layer off to reveal a pale white button-down before him.

"Brother? You want to go to sleep? I can go change," Alfred said, obviously not understanding what Arthur was doing. He smirked, knowing that this was his doing—he was the reason Alfred was so innocent. If Alfred played with other boys seemingly his age, they would've done these kinds of things before Arthur had a chance—but now, _now _Arthur could get away with it.

"No, I'll help you," Arthur insisted, tugging his America roughly back before the slender boy could slip away. He'd been waiting far too long for this; he couldn't even remember why he had waited.

Finally, he was done with that damned undershirt's buttons. It fluttered off of Alfred's body, revealing a pale, smooth chest and two bright pink nipples before Arthur.

_More. Show me more, Alfred!_

He quickly reached for his little brother's trousers. In one swift movement, before Alfred could protest, he yanked them off and tossed them to the floor along with the undershirt to rest atop the red top layer. A completely naked, utterly flustered Alfred sat before him. A masterpiece.

"Alfie," Arthur crooned, softly grabbing the younger's wrists and placing them above his head. He quickly took out a handkerchief from his pocket and securely tied little Alfred's wrists to the bedpost. Up to this point, Alfred hadn't reacted, but he began to struggle now.

"Brother—what are you doing? This is weird, untie me! Please!" he cried, squirming and trying to hide his lower regions from Arthur's view.

_How cute—he's embarrassed._

Ever so slowly, Arthur lowered himself in front of one bright pink nipple. And at an even slower pace, slid his tongue down to taste its first of the boy's skin. All the while, Arthur's eyes stayed locked with Alfred's teary, scared, pleading ones.

Until he started sucking.

"Ah, Broth—ah!" Alfred huffed as Arthur sucked and swirled his tongue around Alfred's hardening nipple. He toyed with the other; pinching, flicking, pulling, not even beginning to show Alfred _real _pleasure.

After almost a minute of teasing, Arthur released Alfie's red, swollen nipple with a _pop _and began to lick his way lower. He slowly traced his tongue along the younger's barely defined abs, before planting neat kisses even lower.

"A-Arthur, Brother, p-please, stop—stop it—" Alfred tried, but he could feel himself losing to his big brother's lips. Everything felt so tingly and…_amazing._

"Oh, but do you _really _want me to stop?" Arthur asked, finally reaching his destination—Alfred's small, adorable length, completely untouched, even by the boy's hand. It was slightly hard, which made Arthur's all the more excited. Not wanting to hold back, he slipped his tongue along the entire length until he got to the tip, where he closed his mouth and began to suck.

"Br-Brother!" Alfred pleaded, but to no avail. Arthur couldn't hear him.

He took in the entirety of his brother's small penis, swirling his tongue in circles around the tip professionally. He _knew _Alfred had to be enjoying this—there was no way he wouldn't. His thoughts were confirmed as Alfred's length became harder.

_No, not yet._

The elder swiftly pulled out yet another handkerchief and tied it around Alfred's weeping member after letting go with a strange sucking noise—which of course turned Arthur on all the more.

He hastily tore off his clothes before turning back to Alfie, who was beginning to weep himself. But, being in the state he was, Arthur paid it no mind. He crawled atop of the younger and grabbed a handful of ash-blonde hair. Pulling it up in front of his own member, he commanded, "Suck."

Alfred gazed up at his brother, his tears flowing harder. "Ar…thur…" he whispered, trying to get out words of rebellion, not wanting to obey this command _at all, _but couldn't find the strength he needed to say such things. When Arthur's grip on his sensitive hair tightened, Alfred consented and slowly took the tip of Arthur's length into his mouth.

Arthur immediately threw his head back at the feeling. It was so much better than those English prostitutes he had done after grueling wars with France, who had hungrily swallowed every ounce of cum Britain released. This feeling was delicate, sensitive—and Arthur loved it. He unconsciously shoved Alfred's head forward, forcing the boy to take in all of the elder's much longer length. Alfred nearly choked, but his brother's hand kept him from crashing his head back onto the mattress to gasp for air.

Slowly—_very _slowly—Arthur eased Alfie's head away from his now completely-hard, dully aching cock. Alfred gasped, gulping in as much air as he could. While his younger brother was occupied, Arthur began to suck on two of his fingers, before forcefully shoving them into America's mouth when he believed the colony had had his fill of air.

"Suck," he repeated, gazing with eyes full of lust down at the boy.

Alfred knew he had no choice other than to submit. He gently sucked on his brother's digits, clumsily swirling his tongue around the rough skin.

When Arthur was satisfied, he pulled the digits from his Alfred's mouth and spread his brother's legs. He stared at the pink, innocent hole which would soon be penetrated by him and him alone.

Just to taunt him, Arthur barely touched Alfred's hole with a finger. This earned a whine from the boy, and Arthur knew he couldn't hold back any longer. He didn't care if Alfred liked it any longer; well, he wasn't going to like it anyway. Without any warning, Arthur plunged deep into Alfred, feeling his brother's walls instantly tighten around him. So tight it was almost uncomfortable, but as he began to slowly thrust in and out, he began to feel pleasure.

Alfred, however, was in severe pain. With each thrust, it felt like someone was stabbing at him inside, at his core. He screamed in pain, but was quickly silenced by Arthur's palm at his mouth. Not able to suppress his pain, he bit down into his older brother's flesh. Instead of hurting Arthur (unintentionally, of course) the elder blonde moaned in pleasure.

_You feel—_thrust—_so amazing—_thrust—_Alfred!_

Arthur felt his climax approaching, and untied the handkerchief that constricted Alfred's member. Immediately, Alfred screamed and released, his arse once again tightening around Arthur, who grunted and spilled his seed deep into the bleeding boy. He didn't pull out for another few minutes, but when he did, he realized what he had done.

Blood and cum oozed from Alfred's ripped, abused hole, and he was sobbing silently into his arm. More crimson dripped from his wrists, which had been rubbed raw from the boy's struggling.

Arthur sat back. _No, I didn't—I couldn't have, I love you, Alfred! _He clutched at his face, trying not to think. _I couldn't have just…no, I did not rape my brother!_

* * *

Well this took wayyy too long to write for how much I actually did write. That was my first ever lemon, smut, whatever the hell you want to call it scene. So it might not be all that great, but you get what you get. I kind of sped things up at the end because I thought "I need to finish this so I can get on with the freaking plot!" Because I like plot. Till next week!


	3. Chapter 3

3

Nothing is worse than to be all alone.

* * *

Abigail shuddered as she passed Master Alfred's room. She wasn't an idiot—she knew what Master Kirkland was doing. She could hear the bed creaking, young Alfred's sobs and yelps, but over everything, she could hear Arthur's moans of pleasure in that one brief moment.

_Just ignore it. Just keep walking. _But the maid knew she wanted to sit and listen; listen to Master Kirkland's moans change to regret when he realized what he had done. Master Alfred's body was still only that of a thirteen-year-olds, that fact wasn't going to change. And then there was the fact that Master Alfred was his _brother._

_ No. Just keep walking. _She continued to sweep the hall, making sure to shoo away any other maids who tried to pass.

Suddenly, she heard the door click open. She didn't turn around, though. She knew what she would see: a shell-shocked Master Kirkland, staring at his hands as if he were a monster, weeping—

"Thank you for your work, Abigail. You may go to your chamber, now," a calm, composed voice ordered.

Abigail spun around, ironically the shell-shocked one. She took in a fully but sloppily clothed, innocently staring Arthur. "Wh—Ma—Yo—Master Kirkland, uhm, yes sir," she replied, knowing that her master's orders were always absolute.

"Tell the other maids as well." His face was indifferent. Like he had just come back from a World Meeting and a long argument with France.

"Yes sir," Abigail replied, regaining her own composure. She took her broom with her and set out to find the other maids.

Meanwhile, Alfred lay in bed, his body racking with silent sobs. He had cried himself dry, yet he was far from calming down. How could his brother—the brother he had adored since forever—do this to him? Did Britain really hate him that much?

He only heard his brother's footsteps and the click of the door, announcing Arthur's retreat. But the boy didn't look up. Arthur had even forgotten to untie him.

Or…had he really forgotten?

_He just wants me to suffer here! _Alfred thought.

But a moment later, the door clicked again. In walked Arthur, his hair matted down onto his face, his eyes hollow. "Alfie, are you okay?" He reached out a hand to touch his brother, who immediately exploded in fearful quivers. Arthur hissed and pulled his arm back as if something had burned it.

_What the hell have I done? _Arthur asked himself. He continued to stare at Alfred until he realized that the boy was still tied to the bedpost. He quickly undid the white handkerchief, which was now stained bright crimson. Even Alfred's wrists wore bracelets of dried blood.

Once his wrists were released, the young boy let out a small cry of pain and pulled his hands to his chest, protecting the raw skin.

_I'm so sorry, Arthur! _Alfred thought, glancing vulnerably at his older brother, who read his gaze as if Alfred was speaking to him. Alfred was asking for forgiveness, for whatever he had done to deserve this.

Arthur suddenly felt sick. He didn't think he could look at the shattered young boy for another moment. The Englishman fled the room, cupping his mouth with his hand. He was still in shock over the animal he had become, just because he had let his desires get the better of him.

_I am such an idiot! _Arthur thought despairingly. Alfred would never look at him the same way—he knew it. And he had to do something about it, get away from it.

Then it hit him. _I'll go away for a while, let things settle. I'll keep him under constant watch, but I won't be around him. That's perfect! _

And he knew just what to do; he had the world's best military at the time, for Heaven's sake! He would occupy America with his soldiers, and keep Alfred under watch from the best of the best. They could report back to him every day, and it wouldn't even feel like he was separated from his younger brother.

_Perfect! _

* * *

Alfred stared at the young man who was supposedly his new "babysitter". He was tall and muscly, with black hair and cold eyes. Abigail adored him almost as much as she adored Arthur, he could tell. But the man seemed…off.

"I'm Ernest Colt, nice to meet you, Mister Alfred," the man said, holding out his hand. Alfred took it timidly, not knowing how to react to the larger man.

"Hello, Mister Colt, I'm Alfred," he replied in a small voice, staring at the scars on his wrist. They had healed nicely from a few weeks ago, but every time he looked at the now white bracelets the scars in his heart reopened.

Ernest smiled coldly. "I'll be looking after you in the absence of Master Kirkland, so feel free to rely on me for anything! Well, I'll go meet the other housekeepers." He gave a nod to the boy and trotted off, taking long, fast strides.

Alfred glanced back down at his wrists. He was sure Mister Colt had noticed, but why hadn't he said anything? Most of the maids had already questioned the rings, but that man had acted like they weren't even there. Did he know about what had happened? Did his brother _tell _him?

_I'm so sorry, Arthur!_

* * *

Sooo yep, I'm sorry that the chapters have been so shitty, hopefully they'll lead to better things. Let me know if you hate OCs, because there's about to be a couple more. However, I can change that upon request. Once again, sorry for the bad quality of the chapter, I was kind of in a rush to get finished. Till next week~


	4. My Apologies!

Hello! This is Hikari Bara, and I'm going to apologize in advance for possible making you think this was going to be another chapter.

I feel like I am letting down everyone who reads this story because I really haven't put that much time or effort into it. I'm currently also working on another story which (no offense) I like writing just a tad better than this, so I'm going to put more effort into that, of course. And plus, I feel like I'm not getting Arthur or Alfred's characters right...especially Arthur's. I will probably start this story back up in a few weeks, after I've rewatched Hetalia in the English dub this time to get a feel for Arthur's accent because, let's be honest here, my interpretation of Arthur's accent sucks. So, I'm sorry to both the people who thought the story was ok how it was and the people who thought I needed to work on the characterization of Iggy and Al. I want this story to be great, not just something you read and forget about two days later. So, thanks for your cooperation and I hope to see you back when I return!

Till next time!


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